


Hold On

by sailingonstardust



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Barduil - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, bard and thrandy dancing in their pjs, seriously it's so fluffy it will rot your teeth, they get a morning to themselves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-03-20 20:20:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3663684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailingonstardust/pseuds/sailingonstardust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sometimes I forget how much I love writing pure fluff (ू•ᴗ•ू )</p></blockquote>





	Hold On

Mornings in the Bowman-Greenleaf household were typically pretty hectic. Between making sure the four kids were fed and ready for school and getting themselves fed and ready for work, both Bard and Thranduil were usually already worn out after the day had only been started for two hours. Neither man would trade it for the world, but they did enjoy the lazy mornings they were granted when the children all had sleepovers at friends’ houses. Today was such a morning.

 

Bard awoke to the sun streaming through a crack in the blinds of his and Thranduil’s bedroom. Beside him lay a mop of tangled blond hair. Contrary to what his husband would have him believe, Bard knew that the silky mane was not always so well kempt as when it was brushed and lay like a long blond curtain. Contrary to what Thranduil believed about Bard, the man loved it when it was messy. The brunette enjoyed nothing more than to bury his hands in it and tug ever so slightly until his husband relented and they fell into a rhythm of irresistible kisses.

 

This morning Bard was more than content to watch his sleeping husband as he lay in their mussed up sheets, looking almost ethereal in the glow of the morning that seeped in through the window. Bard didn’t know if he would ever get used to the word ‘husband’ being used in reference to Thranduil, but he certainly loved the feeling of pride and satisfaction it gave him whenever he heard it. A spouse was not something he ever thought he would have again, yet here they were. Bard would not have it any other way.

 

A feeling of immense and unadulterated love washed over Bard as he took in Thranduil’s angelic appearance while he slept. The way his messy hair framed his face, the long eyelashes that rested ever so beautifully atop his lids, the slight pink tinge to his cheeks that came from spending more and more time out in the sun as summer approached. All of it made Bard dizzy with euphoria at the knowledge that the man was his and his alone.

 

Slowly Thranduil began to stir, letting out a small noise that lighted a soft smile on Bard’s scruffy face. “Good morning.” He murmured, and Thranduil reached up a hand to rub his eyes.

 

“Morning.” He returned, voice thick from sleep.

 

Unable to resist the huskiness in his husband’s voice, Bard bent forward to press a kiss atop his lightly freckled nose. Thranduil smiled and moved his arm to wrap around Bard’s waist, effectively pulling him on top of him.

 

“Did you sleep well?” Bard questioned, and Thranduil hummed his assent.

 

“And you?”

 

“I don’t think I’ve slept that heavily in a while.” Bard admitted, running his fingers through Thranduil’s silky hair.

 

“Hmm, me neither.” Thranduil agreed. He ran his finger over Bard’s lower lip and the brunette’s eyes fluttered closed. He began to tug on Thranduil’s hair ever so slightly, hoping for some good morning kisses.

 

“As much as I’m enjoying this,” Thranduil interrupted, “I really need to pee.”

 

Bard’s eyes flew open and he let out a laugh. “Right, sorry.” He grinned and rolled off of his husband. “In my defense, you were the one that started it.”

 

“I seem to recall you kissing me before I even touched you.” Thranduil replied, sliding out from under the wrinkled white sheet.

 

“I kissed your nose!” Bard protested, but Thranduil simply winked at him as he walked towards their bathroom in only his boxers.

 

Bard let out a contented sigh and hopped out of bed himself, slipping on a pair of sweatpants that lay in a heap on the hardwood floor. He made his way into the kitchen, redoing his messy bun as he went. The man poured enough water for two mugs of tea into the stainless steel tea kettle that sat on the stovetop. He flipped on the gas and pulled their two favorite cups from the overhead cabinet. Thranduil’s mug read ‘Paris’ in a fancy script above a depiction of the Eiffel Tower. Bard could picture in his mind’s eye the touristy shop they had bought it in while they were honeymooning there. Thranduil had gotten it for ‘only €12.99; quite a steal!’ The shopkeeper’s words, not his own. Bard didn’t mind, though. Thranduil had certainly gotten his money’s worth out of the thing.

 

Bard’s mug was a hideous brown thing that read ‘World’s Greatest Dad!’ in a white block font. He had been there with his youngest when she bought it at a yard sale for fifty cents. The girl had held it behind her back in an attempt to shield it from her father, and he had the good grace to pretend like he had no idea she was holding it. Tilda had gifted it to him on his birthday and of course he had acted like it was the greatest thing since sliced bread. Since then he used it every morning just to make his daughter smile, and it was simply habit to use it even when she wasn’t there to see.

 

By now the water was boiling, and Bard poured the steaming liquid into each mug. He placed one teabag in each and let them sit, enjoying the way the russet color seeped into the water in a swirling cloud.

 

He heard Thranduil’s padding footsteps behind him, then the first piano notes of a slow Michael Bublé song rang out. Bard turned around as Thranduil strode toward him, grasping his hands in his own soft ones that smelled like peaches, no doubt from the bathroom soap.

 

“May I have this dance?” Thranduil murmured into Bard’s ear, his warm breath on his neck making the brunette shiver. Bard nodded his head and Thranduil pulled him away from the countertop so that he was flush with his body. The man could not help but notice that still the only thing his husband wore was a pair of plaid boxers.

 

Thranduil did not move his arms from Bard’s waist, so Bard wrapped his arms around his husband’s neck. The man had tied his hair up into a messy ponytail and Bard played with the ends of it as they began to sway back and forth, their sighs harmonizing beautifully.

 

“We danced to this at our wedding, do you remember?” Bard pointed out. Thranduil replied by bending his head to murmur the chorus in his ear. Bard buried his face in the crevice of Thranduil’s neck and let the man sing to him in his low, absolutely captivating voice.

 

“ _So hold on to me tight_ ,” Thranduil sang, “ _hold on to me tonight. We are stronger here together than we could ever be alone so hold on to me, don’t ever let me go_.”

 

Perhaps he was biased, but Bard thought that Thranduil’s voice rivaled even that of Michael Bublé’s. They stayed like that through two more songs until they had stopped swaying and were merely hugging each other in the middle of the kitchen as the music swelled around them.

 

“Do you suppose we need to make new cups of tea?” Thranduil questioned finally, making Bard laugh.

 

“Come on,” he smiled, “we’ll do it together.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I forget how much I love writing pure fluff (ू•ᴗ•ू )


End file.
